


no matter where I go, this will always be home

by thekaidonovskys



Series: we found love in a hopeless place [15]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Bad Days, Dom Clint Barton, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sub Phil Coulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 13:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6857230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekaidonovskys/pseuds/thekaidonovskys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky tuts. "Would Clint let you -?"</p>
<p>"Clint's not here," Phil snaps - then winces, because he doesn't sound angry, he just sounds sad. Which he is, but he should at least try not to turn into a whiny brat just because his Dom isn't here. </p>
<p>"And that's why we're here," Bucky says calmly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>[Or; the one where Phil has a bad day and Clint isn't there - but others are]</p>
            </blockquote>





	no matter where I go, this will always be home

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of votes/requests for this one. The one where Phil has a bad day and Clint is there will inevitably be posted somewhere down the line.
> 
> Quick note re Civil War: I haven't seen it. I may or may not see it. My reasons for possibly watching it are because I heard that apparently Clint in Civil War is 'the Clint we've deserved to get' - would love to hear thoughts on that. But other than that, I'll just say that a) this is obviously non-compliant, and b) please stay relatively spoiler free. Thanks :)

In Phil's line of work, most days are bad days. This understandably skews his point of reference - what would be a day from hell for someone else is just a minor inconvenience to him. True bad days are reserved for either the city exploding, or the ones where Phil locks himself in his office to cry because he can't cope anymore.

Today has been a very bad day. And the city is completely intact.

Miraculously, Phil hasn't cried in his office - though that's probably because it hasn't been empty for long enough for him to do so. Between meetings, consultations, and delivering the termination statuses to two agents for basic stupidity, Phil hasn't had a spare second to himself all day. It's not over, tomorrow is still going to be awful, but at least today has finally made it to an end and now Phil can go home to Clint and be looked after -

And that's when Phil remembers, with the force of a sucker punch - he can't. Clint isn't here. He's on a roof somewhere, sniping for Maria's team, and not due back until tomorrow afternoon. 

Now Phil really might cry.

Maybe he'll just lock the door, get all the stupid emotions out of his system, then keep working through the evening. After all, why go home to an empty apartment? At least here he can do something useful and try to make his day a bit less of a nightmare.

But of course he won't do that. Clint's orders still stand when he isn't home, and Phil not working late unless it's absolutely necessary is one of those orders. And after all, when it comes down to it, SHIELD really isn't the place Phil wants to be right now anyway. Even an empty apartment is better than staying here, unable to forget his shitty day. He can get some work done there anyway, reviewing some reports that have sat woefully on his desk for close to a week now, neglected for more important things.

Home it is.

And he'll just sneak in, Phil decides as the shuttle is approaching the tower. There's no need to make anybody worry, because there's really nothing to worry about, and he knows they will if they can tell he's unhappy. He'll just head to his apartment and try to avoid everybody and...

Well, wait for Clint to come home, probably. Which kind of feels pathetic, but also feels better than working himself to exhaustion in his office, so there's that at least.

When he enters the tower, however, all thoughts of slipping off to his room are wiped out by the most tantalising scent. Phil follows it without question, to the main kitchen - then stops in the doorway to take in the scene.

Natasha, Steve, Bucky, Pepper, and Bruce are sitting at the table with a huge dish of lasagne, which is completely untouched. They all look up when he enters, but after a moment everybody except Bucky seems to deliberately return to their conversations. Bucky stands, crosses the room to Phil, and hugs him. "Hear you've had a really awful day," he says.

Phil tenses - then sighs, and sags into the hug, giving up the pretence of being fine before he even begins. “Something like that,” he says. "And it's not even over. There's still reports I really should -"

Bucky tuts. "Would Clint let you -?"

"Clint's not here," Phil snaps - then winces, because he doesn't sound angry, he just sounds sad. Which he is, but he should at least try not to turn into a whiny brat just because his Dom isn't here.

"And that's why we're here," Bucky says calmly. "Now, it's dinner time. Come join us."

He pulls away, then - while Phil processes that statement - removes Phil's suit jacket, tie, and bag, and leads him to the table. Steve's in the process of serving up, and puts plates in front of Phil and Bucky as they sit. "Here we go, boys," he says, and Phil has to duck his head to hide how suddenly choked up he is. "Phil?" Steve asks after a moment.

"I'm fine, I swear," Phil mutters.

"You don't have to be," Natasha says, accepting her own plate. "We know you've had a bad day. Nobody expects you to be happy."

Phil shrugs. "None of you signed up to deal with me when I'm miserable though. That's Clint's domain." 

"Clint isn't here," Bruce says gently. "Nobody should have to be miserable alone. We're not trying to take his place or anything, but nobody wants to see you go off to your room and know you're alone up there after an awful day. So if we can help, we'd like to."

"We're family, remember?" Steve says, soft but very deliberate.

"Oh god, stop being nice," Phil says, scrubbing a hand over his face. "At least let me eat before I have an emotional breakdown."

"Good idea," Bucky says. "Emotional breakdowns are always better on a full stomach."

Phil takes a couple of bites, mainly to figure out how to word his next question. "You said - after I said that Clint isn't here - that that's why you're here," he says, and Bucky nods. "In what way?"

"However you want," Bucky says with a shrug.

That's fine for Bucky to say - the two often alternative between hanging out and subbing out. But the others are a different story - they're all Doms, for one thing. Phil looks around the table, finally meeting Natasha's eyes. "Like Bucky said," she says. "You need to decompress. How you choose to do that is up to you, but we'd rather you not do it alone." 

Steve nods. "We're not your Doms, and we're not trying to be. We just want to be here for a member of our family who's had a trying day. If you want to do that as a sub - well, we're not going to try to give you orders or anything, and not only because Clint would kill us. But we're all happy to be here. If you want. Or not." 

Phil sighs. "What I want is Clint," he says, and when his voice comes out quiet and small, there's no doubt that Phil's subbing out tonight. "What I want that I can actually have," he continues, "is to sit on the floor, preferably with Bucky, and maybe cry a bit and whine about how shitty my day was and not even pretend to have any dignity."

"We can totally do that," Bucky agrees. "Eat first."

Phil raises an eyebrow. "Are you giving the orders since they can't?"

"Sure am."

Phil shrugs and takes another bite. He'll take that from Bucky - just as long as none of the others try. He trusts them; but he's also a miserable sub with no Dom, and apparently they're all here to keep an eye on him. Phil really isn't certain how that's going to go without any orders being thrown around.

But at least for the duration of dinner, there are none. The others fill the silence, not drawing Phil into the conversation but not deliberately excluding him either. Phil eats and listens and tries not to dwell on his day and lack of Clint. At least he knows better than to tell himself off for missing his Dom - he's tried giving himself a stern talking-to in the past about how he's clearly become weak for not being able to cope without his Dom when he's done perfectly well alone in the past. Being sad and feeling guilty about being sad isn't a good combination, as it turns out. So now Phil just deals with the fact that he's gotten used to a certain level of comfort, and sometimes life hurts more as a result.

His thoughts distract him enough that Phil barely notices the plates being cleared. Once he does, he quickly stands and reaches for the closest items. "No way," Steve says when he does. "You definitely don't need to do that."

"I kind of do," Phil argues.

"But you're not serving us," Bruce says. "That's the furthest thing from what we want."

Phil sighs and turns to Bucky, hoping he'll get it. "Oh, okay," Bucky says after one look. "I'd go ahead and let Phil clear the table if he wants to."

"Thanks," Phil says, and takes his stack of plates to the kitchen fast. He knows it isn't their fault, but this is one of those things that Clint would get instinctively - because he knows that Phil's response to bad days often requires him to find his comfort zone again before he can start decompressing. For Phil, that's usually as easy as doing something inherently subby, letting his mind sink into that submissive place where he feels at home and right.

He knows he isn't going to get anywhere near that feeling tonight. But at least doing something familiar might help.

Bucky joins him with the rest of the plates, and the two work together, stacking the dishwasher in silence. Its companionable and nice, and Phil relaxes just a little, because this could almost be a night in at one of their places, cleaning up while Clint and Steve chat in the other room. Of course that isn't the case, and Phil sighs quietly when they're done because, as much as he loves his friends, all he wants is to be going home to Clint. 

"Can I help?" Bucky asks.

Phil shrugs. "Go find Clint and bring him home?" he asks - then feels stupid. "It's fine," he says. "I'll be okay."

"Yeah, of course you will," Bucky says. "You're always okay. Happy, on the other hand..."

"Yeah, well," Phil says with a sigh. "Not tonight."

"That sucks. Wanna share Steve?" Phil frowns at him and Bucky shakes his head. "Not like - you know how you used to help him out when he was sad?"

Phil understands, but still declines. "I've got a Dom," he says. "Of all the shit I'm feeling, I don't want to add guilt to that."

“Your call,” Bucky says easily. “All of this is. Everybody just wants to see that you’re okay - so tell us if shit isn’t making you happier, or if you really do just want to bail and go hide out. Nobody’s gonna try make you stay if you’re actually uncomfortable or unhappy with the situation. We just don’t want you to feel like your only option is to mope in your room.” 

Phil sighs and presses his palms to his eyes for a moment. "I really don't want to cry today," he says.

"But you're gonna," Bucky says, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "And that's fine. It's part of your charm."

Phil rolls his eyes and allows Bucky to lead him out of the kitchen. Steve passes by them, smiling in that annoyingly fond way he and Clint both do whenever they think Phil and Bucky are being adorable. "Coffee, boys?" he asks.

"But it's after six," Bucky says with wide eyes. "Are you breaking your own rules?"

"Well if you feel so strongly about it, I'll have to rescind the offer -"

"Coffee, please," Bucky says fast. "And you know Phil's a given."

Phil smiles a little sheepishly. "Coffee, please," he echoes.

"The others are in the lounge over the hall," Steve says. "Go make yourselves comfortable."

"If you want," Bucky adds once Steve's gone. "It really is up to you."

Phil shrugs. "I don't want to be alone," he says. "Why sit alone and be miserable if there are people willing to sit with me while I'm miserable?" 

"Truer words have never been spoken," Bucky says, and they head through.

Natasha's disappeared, but Bruce is there, rifling through a cupboard. "A bit presumptuous," he says, turning with a couple of floor cushions in his hands, "but the option is there."

It's not like it's the first time any of them have seen Phil on the floor - though it will be the first time they see him there without Clint sitting beside him. Phil takes a cushion, a little relieved when Bucky does the same, and sets it at the foot of the couch. "Just going to check my emails first," he says, slipping his phone out of his pocket.

"If you're looking for news on Clint," Natasha says, entering the room, "there's been nothing on the wires yet."

Phil doesn't bother checking further to confirm that - Natasha has access to as much information as he does, though her sources aren't quite as legitimately obtained as Phil's. "Unsurprising," he says, setting his phone down then sinking into the cushion with a sigh. "They've got to smoke the guy out, it's probably a few hours away yet." 

He curls his feet up, watching as Steve enters with mugs, hands one to Phil and Bucky each, then sits on Bucky's other side and starts playing with his hair. Bruce watches for a moment, then settles on the couch above and just over from Phil. "Could I do the same?" he asks. 

Phil leans back against the couch. "You can totally do that," he says, and sighs softly when Bruce's hand threads into his hair. It's not Clint, the touch unfamiliar and a bit too tentative and not _quite_ what Phil needs, but for now it's enough.

Natasha is the last to sit down, and picks a more unconventional spot, sitting on the floor across from Phil and Bucky. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asks.

Phil shrugs. "You know everything already though, right?" he asks. Natasha always does.

"Sure," Natasha confirms. "But that doesn't matter. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Phil says, then - "Yes. Maybe. Fuck, I don't know. What good does it do? It sucked, and I hate people and... and why the fuck do people have to think that ranks are the be all and fucking end all? Why do people have to take it so damn _personally_ because a submissive was the one who fired them?"

"Ah," Bucky says in understanding.

"Yeah," Phil says with a sigh, and closes his eyes. He’s pushed the hurt aside for as long as he can, but now it wells up and - well, _hurts_. "This whole progressive sub thing sounds great from the outside, but it's not always sunshine and fucking roses." 

"But you still do have independence," Natasha says.

"Uh-huh. I'm free to work in whatever position within SHIELD I like, as long as my abilities are good enough. I'm also free to report any discrimination, and stand up for myself as I deem fit. I'm completely _not_ free from having that discrimination thrown at me every single goddamn day." 

"Is it really every day?" Steve asks.

"Probably not," Phil admits reluctantly. "But believe me, people still have issues with me. There's still weird looks when new recruits are assigned to me, and people being overly careful around me if something goes wrong in case I have a breakdown. People _still_ ask Clint's permission for things to do with me. I hate it. I really fucking hate it. You don’t know how many times I’ve come _that_ close to walking out and never going back, even if that meant saying goodbye to all of you.”

“You’ve never said,” Natasha says quietly.

Phil sighs. “No,” he agrees. “But that’s because, before Clint, me being a sub just wasn’t discussed. Which was a huge positive, because I could speak freely and give directives and not worry about anybody having an issue with it - but also made me feel that I couldn’t speak about any of this. If I was being treated as effectively neutral when I wanted to be, how could I just turn around and suddenly talk about how being a sub sucks? If everybody else is ignoring it, then I need to ignore it too.”

“You know now that that’s not how it was, right?” Bruce asks. “None of us would ever have asked that of you."

"Of course I know," Phil says. "Clint's made it clear - as have all of you, through your continued respectful attitudes towards me when I started subbing in our private lives, and even after I had that full scale meltdown in front of you all. Especially after that," he adds as an afterthought. "That kind of cemented it. I know now that you were never ignoring that I was a sub, just treating me the same way I treated you. If I had subbed out, you would have been good to me, and not let it change things.” 

Good,” Bruce says. “Just wanted to be sure.”

Phil smiles a little, then it drops. "But now that’s kinda the problem I’m having with SHIELD,” he says. “Because there, it always has been that it’s been ignored. People go out of their _way_ to ignore that I’m a sub, because the fact that I’m their boss but technically ‘inferior’ to them just can’t compute. And then when they’re reminded of that, they _really_ don’t like it. I can’t tell you the issues I’ve had with Doms on duty after field missions gone at all awry, when I’ve done right by them by coming to them to get my levels checked and such without making a fuss, and they’ve not been able to look me in the eye for at least a week afterwards. Because seeing me on that different level changed me in their eyes. I can’t be both at the same time. But I _am_. I always have been. I’ve never tried to be anything I’m not - I acted neutral, because that’s the socially acceptable way to act at work _regardless_ of rank. But if I try to tell people what to do, it's me overstepping because I'm just a sub and no matter how hard I try I'll never be a Dom. I'm not _trying_ to be a Dom, I'm just trying to do my job. How the fuck do I win?"

"By being one of the highest level SHIELD agents, who gives no fucks and takes no prisoners, and also is in a loving relationship with a good Dom, and knows how to balance his life and be brilliant at everything he does?"

Phil glares half-heartedly at Steve. "But I wanted to wallow in misery," he complains. "Don't be all reasonable about it."

Steve smiles. "I forget how different you and Bucky are," he says. "He likes to be argued with. I'll be quiet and let you wallow."

"Well, I can't really do that now," Phil says half-heartedly, then sighs. "I know you're right. But right now I just feel like a failure either way I look at it - I'm not dominant enough to do my job, and not subby enough to be a 'real sub' - and especially not a good one.”

Nobody speaks.

Phil sighs again. "That's the time when I'm happy for someone to argue with me," he says. "But then I asked for that, didn't I?"

Bucky laughs. "Well, put it this way," he says. "Clint would know exactly when to talk and when to shut up - which means you must be a pretty damn good sub because you're in sync with your Dom so well."

"He's just a good Dom -"

"And you're a good sub," Natasha says. "Trust me. Clint won't shut up about it."

Phil smiles slightly. "He would say that, though -"

"Just like you'd say he's a good Dom. Does that make it any less true?"

"... no."

"Well then."

"Fine," Phil says. "But that doesn't help with today. Maybe I am too subby to work for SHIELD."

"Oh, fuck off," Natasha says. "Were you or were you not the only person I actually let order me around when I was recruited?"

Phil shrugs. "The psych team determined that you saw my rank as me being less of a threat," he says. "They... ah, had hints of your past, and thought that perhaps a highly Dominant agent wasn't best for you."

Natasha rolls her eyes. "Please. I listened to you because you're genuine. I didn't trust any of them, but I could tell you were telling as much of the truth as you knew. And you being the one with the most reason to put on a fake persona - they're all Doms, so they don't see a need to pretend to be anything else, because why wouldn't people listen when they told them to jump? You're just who you are, Phil - a guy who's good at being real, who cares about people and about getting the job done right and efficiently. People in SHIELD don't need a boss - we've got Fury for that. They need someone who's in charge but still feels like they're on their team. That's you."

There's a few moments of silence. Natasha looks faintly embarrassed at her speech, and Phil is just blinking at her, taking that in. "Right," he finally says. "Well. Thank you."

He sips his coffee, letting his thoughts play out for a bit. Because of course talking about what happened never really helps - Phil needs to talk about how it makes him feel now, about why he's still letting it ruin his day. And this bit always sucks, Clint usually prising it out of him as gently as possible. This time Phil has to be responsible and bring it up himself.

“The worst part is how stupid I feel," Phil finally says, and tries not to be mortified when his voice wavers, because he'd warned them that crying might happen. "Because there's so much that could have happened to make today bad - people could have died, Clint's op could have gone horribly wrong - but here I am being miserable about stupid sub stuff. I feel like I'm just so selfish. What right do I have to sit here and feel like I deserve to be comforted for a situation that's so fucking insignificant, and one I've put myself in anyway? I'm just so... so pitiful."

He ducks his head to try and hide the extra-pitiful tears that are now falling.

Nobody speaks for a few moments, and Phil spends each of those moments convincing himself to leave, because not only is this incredibly awkward but also probably puts everybody in a difficult situation. Nobody wants to be the one to try and offer comfort for fear of crossing that line - and for all Phil hates the line, it's there. No matter how much everybody knows that Phil is Clint's and would never sub for anybody else, these people are Doms, and none of them are _his_ Dom, and maybe this is all actually just in Phil's head, but sometimes dynamics just suck. 

But they're not all Doms. Bucky shifts to hug Phil properly, rubbing his back. "Told you you were gonna cry," he says, and Phil chuckles a little, because fair. "Want to just get on with it and get it out of your system, or should I do the heavy dose of reality thing?" 

"Why not?" Phil says, glad to hear his voice is a little more stable. "Everybody else has tried, right? Except Bruce," he adds. 

"I think this," Bruce says, still stroking his hair, "is more useful than any advice I could try to give."

"No offence, but agreed," Phil says. "Go on then, Bucky."

"I burned dinner last week," Bucky says without preamble. "I cried over it. Stevie had just come in the door and instead of getting to relax and have dinner, he had to calm me down. How's that for pitiful?"

"It's not," Phil says. "It was an act of service gone wrong. Of course you can be upset about it."

"And you had some assholes directly mock and challenge your authority based on your personal life, when all you were trying to do was do your job," Bucky shoots back. "That's hurtful and probably kinda humiliating. I'd have gone straight home and cried on Steve's shoulder for hours. And that's okay. It's okay to be sad." 

"Exactly," Steve says. "Just because it could be worse doesn't mean you can't be sad about it. It could always be worse. In this case, it _should_ have been better. You deserved better than what you got, and it's more than okay to be upset about that."

That really does help. Phil feels much less guilty (but still pretty stupid) about crying. At least now the awkwardness has disappeared - Phil still isn’t great about crying in front of people, but its bearable. Especially with Bucky here. There’s only one thing that can make it better - “Tasha?” Phil asks.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me something cynical and bitter about the world?”

Natasha laughs, because she gets it. “Sometimes, Phil,” she says, “people just really suck. And those people are never going to go away. This won’t be the last time they’ll make you feel this way.” 

“Is that really -“ Steve begins, sounding disapproving. 

“It’s actually really helpful,” Phil cuts in.

“Alright then,” Steve says, and drops it. 

Phil doesn’t try to explain - how getting that proper dose of reality that things sometimes just _do_ suck actually takes a lot of the guilt from Phil’s shoulders. Because the world sucks, and Phil cannot control things that are out of his control, and this isn’t his fault. There weren’t any magic words that would have made the situation any better, or anything Phil did that caused the tirade of derogatory words he had to endure today. It was just a part of people being people, and people sucking. All Phil could, and can, do is act according to his own conscience, and know that his actions were justifiable and correct.

He knows Natasha gets it. It’s one of the first lessons he taught her and Clint when they joined his team.

Thankfully, the tears don’t last long, and everybody just waits it out until Phil extricates himself from Bucky’s octopus grip to wipe his eyes, then shifts away from Bruce so he can stand up and stretch. “I missed out on my prime sitting on the floor years,” he says wryly.

“I never had them,” Bucky says, joining him with a hint of relief. “It’s only relaxing for so long, then your knees just kinda hurt.” Phil chuckles and Bucky knocks their shoulders together lightly."Do you feel better?"

"I'd love to say yes," Phil says with a sigh, "because you've all been so good to me and I should be better now because of it. But all I am now is tired." 

"You don't have to be anything you're not," Natasha says. "You also don't have to stay if you'd rather go to bed."

"Alone? No thanks."

"There's a really comfortable couch over there," Bucky says, pointing it out. "Let's go be super adorable and cuddle."

Phil smiles a little. "Yeah, okay,” he says.

Before he can go, Bruce stands up and hugs him. "Glad to see you looking a little less sad," he says.

Natasha and Steve follow suit - and Phil suddenly realizes that the stupid dynamic line he'd been drawing is actually irrelevant. No matter who Phil's chosen to be tonight, everybody else has been here as a friend and nothing more. His day has gotten too far inside his head, making him see people in terms of rank before anything else - and, if nothing else, the company he's been in tonight has brought him back to remembering that, at the end of the day, people are  _people_ first, regardless of dynamic or rank.

And these people right here are some of the best.

"Thank you," Phil murmurs to them all, hoping they'll hear the level of sincerity in his voice, then once again follows Bucky over to the couch.

As they settle in, the others move about too - Bruce departs for the lab, while Steve and Natasha relocate to the table to play some sort of variant of poker that apparently doesn’t suck with only two people. Phil’s been meaning to learn it, but right now he has other priorities, because his horrible day is over and his family are here and the couch is definitely comfortable enough to sleep on with no repercussions. 

So that's exactly what Phil does.

*** 

He wakes some indeterminable time later to the sound of Natasha's voice. Once Phil focuses enough to register that she's talking about his day, he curls a little closer to Bucky and tries to drift off again. He doesn't need to hear the play by play when he's lived it.

But the voice that replies snaps Phil right back to wakefulness. "Clint?" he says, opening his eyes and trying to sit up without disturbing Bucky.

Clint, sitting right next to him, puts a gentle hand on his shoulder and guides him back. "It's okay, baby, stay there," he murmurs. "I'm gonna join you just as soon as Nat gets me up to speed."

"Okay," Phil says quietly, and carefully lies back down. Clint keeps his hand on Phil's shoulder and Phil covers it with one of his own, lacing their fingers together. He doesn't want to let go.

When he glances at Bucky, he finds him awake and looking at Phil knowingly. "Better?" he asks, and smiles when Phil nods. "Good. I'm gonna go to bed, leave you guys to it."

Phil hugs him. "Thank you," he whispers.

"Always a pleasure. Come by when you can drag yourself away from Clint again."

"So, in about a week or so," Phil says.

Bucky chuckles, sitting up. "Hey, Clint," he says. "Good to see you back."

"Very good to be back," Clint says. "Thanks for looking after my boy. Tell Steve I said you deserve a reward."

"Definitely," Bucky says, standing up. "Heading out too, Nat?"

"Yeah. These two probably want some alone time." Natasha leans over and ruffles Phil's hair. "Thanks for the trust, Phil."

She and Bucky leave before Phil can put words together - and then it's Clint, lying down next to him, and Phil doesn't want words. He just wants to cling to Clint, to be held by his Dom and reassured that everything is okay. So that's exactly what he does.

After a little while, though, Phil's professional curiosity wins out. "How'd you get home so early?" he asks.

"Got him isolated quicker than expected. We thought we'd get a moment between the shift change, but turns out the guy was also ducking his bodyguards to go and have a smoke."

"The vices of nicotine," Phil says solemnly, and they both chuckle. "Did you get hurt?" 

"What do you take me for, an amateur?" 

"No - I take you for you, the amazing but clumsy Hawkeye."

Clint sighs with put-upon offence. "Just a few scrapes," he admits. "And now that we know I'm fine and the op went fine, can we focus on you?"

"Do we have to?" 

Clint hugs him tighter. "You know we do, sweet boy."

"Are you mad at me?"

"... I'm not even going to waste time asking what for. No. Absolutely not. Whatever you think I might have reason to be mad for, you're wrong."

Phil sighs. "You go away and I fall to pieces and can't cope on my own," he mutters.

Clint sighs too. "You didn't fall to pieces because I went away. You had the shittiest day, and you still haven't actually fallen to pieces, and even if you had I wouldn't blame you in the slightest. If I had been here, you would have been just as upset and hurt. And I wasn't here, and our family stepped in to be amazing, and you let them help when you needed it and I'm so glad you did.”

“Didn’t think you’d like it. Bunch of Doms looking after me.” 

“You mean our family looking after you?” Clint asks patiently. “The people we both trust completely?” 

“I know. Fuck. I’m sorry.” 

Clint rubs his back. "It's all okay, honey. Nat said you talked a bit about your day - I'm all ears if you need to say anything else, but I'm happy to let it be if you're feeling okay."

Phil nods. "I'm okay now. Shouldn't have let two idiots bring me down so badly anyway."

"That's on them, not you. And I hear you kicked them to the curb nearly and efficiently anyway."

"Sure did." Phil chuckles quietly. "All things considered, I shouldn't have listened to a word out of the mouths of people who thought it was acceptable to try and humiliate someone who's trained in the effective disposal of bodies." 

"Damn right." Clint kisses his forehead, then meets Phil's eyes. "Hey," he says, soft and serious. "You are the most extraordinary person I have ever met. You're a fucking badass who has always made me feel safe and like everything's under control; and you're also the sweetest and most well behaved submissive who is willing to hand over all of that control and competence of the day-to-day and trust me with your safety. You are both of those things, perfectly, and nobody gets to tell you that you're too much of something or not enough of something else. You give your whole self to everything, and you are always, always enough. And anybody who thinks otherwise can fuck right off. Got it?"

Phil, blushing painfully but refusing to break eye contact, nods. "Got it."

"Good boy." Clint says, then smirks a little. "Apparently Steve tried to give you a motivational speel and it didn't go down as well."

"He's not you. Nobody's you. You always have the right words."

Clint laughs. "Natasha has them too, it seems."

"... okay, but she's still not you."

"That's true," Clint says, smiling. "And for the record, all of what she said were my sentiments exactly when I was recruited. Which I think you know already, but her words were badass so I'm borrowing them."

"Is badass the word of the night?" Phil asks around a yawn.

"Sure is." Clint kisses him, soft and quick. "Time for bed? Or is there anything you need first?"

Phil sits up. "To know that you're okay and don't need anything," he says.

Clint sits up too, smiling. "You're perfect," he says, and Phil tries not to roll his eyes as he fails to control his blush. "I'm fed, bathed, bandaged, and going to get all my needs met by putting my sub to bed and seeing him happy. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Phil agrees quietly, and takes his hand as they stand to leave. He’s feeling just a little clingy. 

Clint doesn’t discourage it at all. They stay close until they reach their apartment, only separating so Phil can use the bathroom and get ready for bed. Then, even though it’s early and Phil’s just slept and Clint’s still probably coming down from adrenaline, they curl up in bed and switch off the lights and, for awhile, don’t speak. It’s soothing, just lying there with someone who loves him, and Phil closes his eyes and drinks it in. No matter how awful people try to make him feel, they can’t take away the goodness of being with Clint. Nothing can.

Clint stays still for the first while, then starts tracing light touches over Phil’s back and shoulders, eventually moving to his hair. Phil sighs and presses closer, and Clint chuckles. “The hair is such a weak spot,” he says. “I love it.” 

“I’m not sorry about that. Also, Bruce played with my hair for, like, the whole evening."

"That sounds adorable," Clint says, and it sounds like he’s smiling. "Between Steve's advice column and Natasha's reality checks, I'm glad you had someone to be nice and gentle with you as well.”

Phil wrinkles his nose a little. "If it'd just been Bruce, I would've been annoyed after a few minutes," he says. "Same for the rest of them. Together they kinda got me feeling better, but individually they didn't connect with me well enough to help." 

"That's compatibility for you," Clint says. "I think everybody has a way to relate to everybody, but it takes more than one connection to actually connect."

"And we have heaps."

"We do," Clint agrees softly. "I'm so glad for that. Not just because it means we can be together, but because I know that I sometimes have the ability to make your bad days less awful, and that’s such an amazing thing.”

“I know,” Phil says, because he really does. Learning how to soothe Clint back from being consumed by anger or hurt has always been one of the most rewarding things Phil has done - not because he gets any gratification out of being the one to do it, but because knowing that Clint isn’t hurting as badly is such a good feeling. Clint has always deserved better than the world has thrown at him, and Phil likes being a happy place for him.

“But as mean as this sounds,” Clint continues, “I’m kind of glad today happened, and that I wasn’t there to help. Because of course you can cope alone, and I never thought for a second that you’d become codependent on me and not be able to handle things if I’m away. But I don’t want you to cope alone if you have other options. I’m glad you let everybody help.”

“Me too,” Phil says. “They weren’t you, and they sure weren’t perfect - but they were never meant to be. They don’t know me like you do, but they know me enough - and care about me enough - to help. And that’s what matters.”

“Exactly.” Clint kisses his forehead. “And if I were to ever take complete leave of my senses and do something to hurt you, I know they’d step up and be there for you.”

“But you won’t be doing that.”

“Not if I’m in my right mind, no,” Clint says. “We’ve seen me lose it before.”

Clint falls silent for a moment. Phil knows where his mind has drifted back to, and just hugs him a little tighter, waiting for the memories to pass. It does them no good to talk about it - they’ve done so extensively, and bringing it up just ends up upsetting them both. 

“But that’s needlessly dramatic,” Clint continues, and Phil silently agrees - not to mention, it’s just asking for trouble. “Moral of the story - our family are awesome, you’re smiling again, and I hope you napped sufficiently because I’m not in the least bit tired yet.”

“Moral of the story,” Phil repeats, trying not to laugh, “is that you want to have sex?”

“Isn’t that the moral of most of my stories?”

Phil smirks as Clint shifts away to look at him. “I don’t think you know what a moral is at this point,” he says.

Clint raises an eyebrow. “The message you take away from the story. And the message I’d like to take away now is whether you want me to grab the cuffs or the blindfold.”

Phil’s smirk quickly disappears. “Both?” he asks, in his best _I’ll behave_ voice. 

Clint laughs. “Only because you’re cute,” he says, kissing Phil’s cheek before slipping out of bed and going for the box. “And because I want you to completely forget about your bad day.”

It’s already forgotten, but Phil’s definitely going to wait until afterwards to admit that.

**Author's Note:**

> (By the way, did you notice the foreshadowing?)
> 
> Next fic: Doubling back to Part 13 to add more to cute Phil/Bucky subby friendship.


End file.
